The Journeys of Bumbly Bear
Page 3
Chapter 3
School
As I made my tea and toast the next morning, I kept hearing her words in my ears: “it’s always like this --” How were we to find a way to this little girl’s heart so that she could attach normally to someone for at least her growing up years, setting the stage for good adult relationships and attachments? How were we to teach her to trust that someone could care for her and not hurt her? She had never been in a placement where that was true unfortunately, or so the records stated.
Our job was never easy … to ease the pains of separations and abuses that often had occurred over and over in the children’s short lives. But this one somehow seemed especially hard. Nutmeg, after several foster placements and considered “ready” for adoption, had literally refused an adoption, saying to her new parents: “I don’t want to be Black like you!” I could feel for the new young parents who felt this child had totally rejected them, and who, disappointed and heart-broken, took her back to Social Services. Public adoptions didn’t offer therapeutic support to adoptive parents. And so, Nutmeg had come to be classified as “unplaceable,” meaning that unless we could change her heart and feelings and could somehow teach her to trust and attach and love a parent or set of parents, she would spend the rest of her life moving from foster placement to foster placement, never knowing a home or family of her own.
As I entered our offices, the secretary called me over. “There’s trouble at the school with the new kid. They want you to come up right away.”
Without even checking my mail, I headed back out to our small private school where our children in the Evaluation Home were placed. Here we did complete educational assessments of their abilities and skills, as well as keeping behavioral observations of how a child performed and acted, or acted out, in school.
Arriving at the school, Barb, the head teacher, came outside to greet me. “This one’s a real pip,” she said with a wide grin. There was nothing Barbara enjoyed more than a good challenge in our children!
“OK what’s she done already? “ I asked.
“Well, she bit little Michael, and she’s been masturbating ever since, putting on quite a show. I put her in the bathroom for a time out,” said Barb.
“OK,” I said as I went inside.
As I entered the bathroom, I heard Nutmeg singing: “There’s no mama in the sky.” I listened outside the small cubicle in which she sang: “and there’s no papa there to make her cry.” Nutmeg crooned and cried softly in between verses.
I opened the cubicle door slowly, and sat on the floor beside her. “Nutmeg, did you hit Michael?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah, so what?” She looked at me defiantly.
“So you hurt Michael. And here at Children’s Garden we don’t let anyone get hurt or hurt anyone else.”
“So whatcha’ gonna do about it?” she asked with a challenge in her voice.
“Oh, probably separate you from the other children, give you extra chores, and take away your best loved activities,” I replied firmly.
“So?” she shouted. “I don’t care.”
“Cradling her gently there on the floor, I said quietly, “Well Nutmeg, it’s too bad that you don’t care. We hope that you will learn to care and care about being cared for here at Children’s Garden. Now I think you and I had best get up and go home.”
Nutmeg began to wail. “No, no I’ll be good – please.” She cried loudly and began to kick and scream.
“Nutmeg, temper tantrums won’t do any good for you or the other children,” I said quietly but firmly.
“You have broken one of our most important rules –- not to harm another person -- and you must go home for today. Tomorrow is another day, and perhaps you can think about how you will behave differently then while you are home.”
“But I don’t want to be alone,” she screamed.
“You will not be alone. Your house mom is there with you,” I reassured the frightened child who now hung onto my hand tightly and tried to get into my lap.”
I stood up, put my arms around her and led her quietly through the back of the classroom, out to the parking lot and into my car. I buckled up her seatbelt, climbed into the driver’s side and started the engine.
“Wait,” Nutmeg said quietly now. “If I PROMISE to be good, can I go back to school? There’s a party later and I’ll miss it if I have to go home. PLEASE, PLEASE -- I PROMISE I’ll be good.” She whined and looked up at me with those deep, dark brown pleading eyes.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, and I am really sorry you will miss the party, Nutmeg,” I said. “but your behavior today is unacceptable, and we care enough about you to teach you that you cannot behave by hitting others. You’ll have lots of time to think about that today while you are home.”
I drove out of the parking lot and listened to her screech over and over how much she hated me for the five miles to the Evaluation Home. To say she was loud is an understatement.
This child had an amazing ability to turn on and off her screeching, apparent emotional upsets and outbursts and her crying and screaming. The minute we drove into the driveway of the Evaluation Home, she stopped, sighed a bit and eagerly got out of the car.
As we entered the house, she smiled and ran to the housemother. “Can we go get the blue paint now?” She quickly asked in a charming voice.
Marci looked at me questioningly. “Uh -- just a minute, Nutmeg.” It seemed that Katy had convinced her house parents to also call her Nutmeg in this short time period. “I need to find out why you are home now.”
I hastened to explain what had transpired at school as Nutmeg sat on the floor and pouted, chewing on her fingernails. And Marci, a seasoned houseparent in our agency knew what to do and say next.
“Nutmeg, we need to have a little talk about your behavior and the rules here in Children’s Garden. Then you can help me with some chores until the children return from school.”
Nutmeg screamed: “Don’t I even get lunch?”
“Yes, of course you get lunch,” Marci replied. “But first, you and I are going to sit down and talk.”
I left once again for the office, feeling comfortable with the knowledge that Marci would somehow get through to Nutmeg at least once. I also knew that Nutmeg was smart and would likely find another way to hurt someone or something soon.